


old records and simple steps

by intricate_glass_box



Series: Lex and the Actor [2]
Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Learning to Dance, Other, POV Second Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25602781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intricate_glass_box/pseuds/intricate_glass_box
Summary: The radio isn't playing anything good. The Actor wants to show Lex his record collection instead, which includes some songs that would be fun to dance to if Lex knew how.
Relationships: Actor Mark/Lex (OC)
Series: Lex and the Actor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855654
Kudos: 5





	old records and simple steps

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, just a clarification that the POV character is my OC, Lex, so if some stuff doesn't make sense maybe read my first fic with them. I just like writing in second person sometimes. (This fic takes place some months after that one; I'm not exactly posting (or writing) this stuff in chronological order.)
> 
> ...Oh, that, and I don’t know anything about any kind of dancing.

You’d been listening to the radio together, but it was playing more ads than songs and you were both growing rather annoyed with it. Mark huffed, finally turning it off. 

“I could put my phone on,” you offered. 

Mark thought for a moment. “Have I ever shown you my record collection?” 

“You collect records? No, you haven’t.” 

“No, no, not the way you’re thinking; I don’t collect records, I have a record collection. I inherited some from my parents, and I of course have my own.”

“Oh! From back in the 20s?” you asked, a bit of wonder in your voice. 

Mark looked excited that you were interested. “Come on, I’ll play you some of my favorites,” he offered, holding out a hand. 

He led you to one of the many rooms of the manor — one you’d never been in. You immediately noticed a large and ornate old phonograph off to the side of the room.

“Oh, it’s pretty,” you commented, releasing his hand to walk over to it. It was engraved and you felt like it probably wasn’t gold but it might be gold for all you knew. 

“Thank you,” Mark said with a smile. He moved to the shelves near the device, thumbing through what you now assumed to be records. You sat on the floor behind him, watching him. “But wait ’till you hear it. …If I can find it… it’s been a while, I suppose… ah, here! This is the one I wanted you to hear.” 

He stood and set it on the phonograph, setting it up to play, then (after a moment’s hesitation and a glance towards the vacant couch) joined you on the floor. He told you a bit about the song, who wrote it, and when. “I heard it live, too, of course. They played in the city.” 

“Wow, that’d be really neat. I’ve been to a concert, but I’d imagine it’d be different.” 

“Oh, yes,” Mark said, nodding, although you were pretty certain he’d never been to a modern concert. “I don’t listen to all of these — like, the ones down there that were my parents’. But truthfully this is probably the only collection like this in the world! Some were among the very first records to be produced. A few may even be the only ones of their kind.” 

You let him brag a bit, nodding and adding little oohs and aahs where appropriate. “That’s pretty cool.” 

The rest of the song played out, and nothing followed. “Oh? Just the one?”

“Yes. Many of these only have one song.” 

“Huh!” and you were distracted by that fact for a second until you realized he was waiting to hear your thoughts on it. “I liked that one! I’ve always been fascinated that we don’t seem to loop when it comes to musical stylings. Like, music from the — you said 1910s for this one, yeah? — sounds different from the 40s sounds different from the 70s sounds different from the turn of the century. And, sure, you can attribute some to the types of instruments and technology, but some of it is an aesthetic sensibility. Not that one’s better than the others — just, all different.” 

“Ah, you’re right; I can’t say I’d thought about it that way before.” 

“Reminds me that things are sort of inherently limited edition. Like, back then, you wouldn’t have thought this music had a distinctive sound. And today, I don’t think about modern music as having a characteristic style — or, maybe now I will, but I can’t _hear_ it in the music. One day it’ll change again, and no one will experience the music of today the same way we are now.” 

Mark gave you a thoughtful sort of smile. “I think that’s just a fancy way to say what I always say.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Life is for the living!” he said, then moved forward and kissed you. He’s right; it got at the same thing: time’s passing! Seize it while it’s here. You laughed when he pulled back. 

“Play me another song?” 

He played you a couple more, then he said, “Let me play you one we can dance to.” 

You were interested, but there was a problem. “I don’t know how to dance, though.”

Mark looked surprised, and paused in putting the new record on. “You don’t? Why not?” 

Well, you didn’t know. But it sort of made sense. You broke into a smile. “For you to teach me, of course.” 

He set the needle on the record before he smiled back, pleased by the thought. Then he extended his hand. “I can certainly do that. Just follow my lead.” You took his hand and allowed him to help you to standing. 

“Alright, but I’m not sure how this is going to go,” you warned, looking down at your feet while he used a hand gently on your waist to pull you into position. The music was fast paced — or at least, full tempo — so you were a little concerned. 

“We’ll just do a simple step,” Mark decided. “Now it’s essentially just, when I move forward, you move back, and vice versa.” 

“I’ll try!” you promised, so he took the first step, slowly, and you moved back to allow him to complete the move. You realized he was taking you at half time. 

“Good!” Mark praised. “You don’t have to look down; look at me. You’re getting it.” 

You looked up at him, at least long enough to smile at the compliments. But without looking down, you didn’t fall over and nothing caught on fire, so you cautiously followed his instruction and kept your eyes on him. He seemed happy, and that made you happy. 

You didn’t feel like you could _really_ call this simple step dancing, but between the lively music and Mark’s attention, you were having fun. 

“See? You’re a natural,” the Actor said, before doing _something else what was this what—_

You looked down again, which caused you to stumble, stopping the two of you. “Wait, how do I—” 

“Just go with it!” 

You grumbled a bit out of nervousness but not irritation as he brought you back into the simple step you’d mastered. But, he gave you a soft look, and you were willing to try; it would be fun, if you could get it under control, to be able to do something more complex. “I’ll try, but give me a warning next time, please!” 

He nodded. “Alright, then, now!” 

This second try went a little better, and Mark patiently cycled you through a couple of times until it was going smoothly, if not skillfully. And of course, you were still only at half-time. 

You could tell the song was ending, and Mark spoke up. “Are you having fun? Want to keep dancing?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I am, actually.” 

You were pleased by how that made him smile before he said “Aha, great! I knew you would! Let me put on another good dancing song, then.” He stopped you both, and kissed you on the cheek before walking away to select a different record. He again told you a bit about when it was from and where he’d heard it. 

He seemed to have pretty good taste; you’d genuinely liked everything he’d played for you so far, although you were hearing them all through the filter of being very old songs.

“Let’s keep going?” he asked as he returned to you, and you linked up again, easily falling back into step now that you knew how it went. 

You kept dancing through several more songs that Mark wanted you to hear; he taught you a few more kinds of steps, and towards the end took you up to full speed, which was easy enough now that you’d had a good amount of practice. 

Eventually, you stopped — you were a bit tired; there were too many records getting scattered about because Mark wasn’t putting them back as he went — but you stopped happy, and you thought you’d definitely spend some other afternoon this way.


End file.
